


Attack on Loneliness

by CeaselessCow2011



Series: The Magnus Archives: Barely Canon [4]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Jon has PTSD, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, and has a panic attack, this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeaselessCow2011/pseuds/CeaselessCow2011
Summary: Jon has a panic attack and is lonely.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: The Magnus Archives: Barely Canon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986040
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	Attack on Loneliness

It’s only been two days since Martin left to go two towns over to investigate a case involving what Tim calls “sinister happenings”, but Jon already felt the familiar pangs of loneliness creeping into his chest. The coldness of loneliness wasn’t new to Jon. He sat at his desk for another work day, saying nothing more than a small “Hi, Rosie.” as he walked into the Institute. He hadn’t even talked to Tim or Sasha all day. He worked on filing documents for hours, until he looked out the window, where the moon and street lights illuminated the quiet street of London. He remarked to himself how Martin would be at the door by now, knocking and asking if Jon was ready to go home yet. He certainly wasn’t ready to face going home right now, into the empty flat. He kept himself busy. 

He kept working until about 01:25 before he decided to go home. He slung his bag over his shoulders and headed out. He noticed how quiet and empty the hallways were. How he felt so alone in the dark corridors, yet not alone enough. He felt like he was being watched, like someone was nearby, watching his every move, but at the same time, he felt like no one was around for miles. He felt like he was invisible. He got outside of the building and into the cold, dark London street and started walking to the flat. _Maybe Martin left for good. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that._ Jon felt his eyes well up with tears as he quickened his pace. He got to the door, unlocked it, went inside, and locked the door again, leaning against the door, his chest feeling heavy and throbbing.

Jon threw his jacket and bag off, desperate to get to the bed as quickly as possible. He threw his shoes off and went to bed. He went onto the bed, sat upright, and looked to where Martin’s side of the bed was. This was when he started crying. What began as a few hot tears rolling down his face turned into pained, throbbing sobs, and before he knew it, Jon’s whole chest burned and ached much more than it ever had. He was now lying on his side, clutching his chest, heaving and sobbing, the flow of tears never seeming to stop. He took his shirt off. Then his pants. Then his socks and even his boxers. He couldn’t even seem to feel comfortable enough in his own skin, let alone clothes. The touching sensations were too much. He couldn’t take the feeling of being able to touch things. Seeing was too much, it was all too much to bear. His breathing felt loud. His heartbeat felt loud. Everything felt louder than a million people cheering in an overcrowded stadium. 

_Why am I like this? I need Martin, I need Martin, I need Martin. Martin. Martin. Martin. Need. Martin. Why am I like this Why am I like this Why am I like this I need Martin Why isn’t Martin here Did he leave me alone Am I alone again Did he leave me for good Oh god Oh no Oh god Oh no He left for good and it’s all my fault What have I done I’m going to die alone I’m going to die alone I’m going to-_

His thoughts go interrupted by someone- or something- coming into the flat. _Oh no someone’s broken in-_ Jon couldn’t will himself to get up. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He could hear every step it took as it went closer to the bedroom. He was terrified. He let out a small whimper as the doorknob turned. What was this thing? Was it going to kill him? Maybe he deserved this fate. Maybe he deserved to be killed. He closed his eyes and curled into a scared ball, huddled into himself. Maybe he deserved this.

“Jon?” A concerned voice called. Jon knew this voice. He knew this voice. But was it really him? Or was this some sort of trick? The Distortion’s doing? Was this some sort of illusion? He felt a hand get onto his shoulder. He jumped. “Get away from me-!” He yelled out on instinct. The hand was released quickly. He heard shuffling. He shook as he slowly looked at who- or what- was here with him. It certainly _looked_ like Martin. 

It looked at Jon with a worried look on its face. “Jon, it’s me. It’s Martin. You’re okay. I’m not going to harm you. I promise.” The words that came out of this creature’s mouth felt sincere. Warm. Kind. 

Jon studied this ‘Martin’. He looked at it up and down several times. “Martin?” He asked slowly. 

Martin nodded, smiling a little bit. “That’s right. It’s me. I’m back from my trip.”

Jon’s eyes flooded with tears as he thrusted himself into Martin. “Martin…” He held onto him tightly. “Martin.” He repeated, wrapping his arms and legs around him. 

“Are you alright, Jon?”

“I am now.”


End file.
